No Other Choice
by smalld1171
Summary: Dean comes to the rescue of a stranger and pays the price. I hope any who read will enjoy.


**Hi there. I know I have a lot of unfinished stories on the go but sometimes I just need to take a break from my multi chapter stories and write a little one shot ditty. This one was written in about twenty minutes so I hope it isn't too terrible.**

**As always, thanks to anyone out there who gives this little story a chance, I appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!**

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><p>You would think he would know better by now; that perhaps jumping in head first, all full of piss and vinegar is not always the best course of action. But really, what choice did he have? Was he just supposed to sit back and watch while some human douchebag got his groove on by terrorizing an innocent woman? Someone who was just minding her own business and trying to live her life? No. Unequivocally and for certain, the answer will always be a resounding no.<p>

She is kneeling beside him now. He can see her lips move and he assumes she is busy trying to provide him with some semblance of comfort. He thinks he can feel the touch of her shaking hands on him, as she tries whatever she can to stop the flow of blood; his blood; the blood that continues to escape drop after drop from the fresh bullet wound in his side.

She looks around in desperation and, although he can tell by the veins that jut out from her neck that she is screaming, it comes out as a muffled whisper to his ears. 'Somebody, please help me!' 'Please, he needs help!'

He wants to be the one to comfort her; wants to tell her that he is sorry she had to witness the ugliest side of humans up close. But he can't. He feels weak and winded and that staying conscious is about all he can pull out of his hat right now. So he just watches her; concentrates on her every move.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. And another. She keeps one hand on him as the other dives into her coat pocket to retrieve her cell phone. He watches, as she dials what he assumes is 911, and he can't be sure but maybe he actually just snickered at the sight. Her lips are moving so damn fast that it will be some kind of miracle if the person on the other end actually understood one word that just flew out of her mouth at mach speed.

She looks around and he figures she is relaying their location to the operator. She nods in understanding to the invisible person whispering in her ear, but as she stares at him again, intently, he feels a lump suddenly form in his throat. He quirks his eyebrows at her, at least he thinks he does, as she places the phone on her shoulder and removes her hand so she has both of them free.

He tries to figure out in his head what she is about to do because he swears he can see a look on her face that screams out 'I'm sorry.' She rips off the scarf he never even noticed she had been wearing and then he feels it; intense and painful pressure as it tears into his side; as she seems to dig her hand right through his skin into the flesh underneath.

He wants to stay strong; to transfer his own strength onto this stranger who he now feels responsible to protect, but he can't quite seem to manage it. He tries to bite back the moan that wiggles from the back of his throat out into the evening air, but as the echo of it rattles around in his chest he knows he has failed miserably. He pants and gasps at the sensation that suddenly overtakes him and when he is able to focus once again he sees her; sees her stare him straight in the eye.

He admires her in that moment. How she tries her best to paste on a worry free smile; as she fights her own shock and trauma to do what she can to keep him breathing; to keep him calm. He wants to help her. He wants to tell her it's okay; that he's fine; that she doesn't need to worry, he's been through way worse than this. But when he opens his mouth to say it, no noise other than another painful groan makes its way from his lips.

So he tries something else. He tries to smile back, but can't really tell if he's pulled the move off with his usual grace. He focuses on her face then; he can see the tear stains on her cheeks; watches as fresh rivets of salt water stream down her fair skin, until they seem to suspend themselves on her chin. He is mesmerized by them. He watches and waits with fascination and anticipation as the tears teeter there, until they slowly lose their grip and tumble from her gentle face onto the earth below.

He can hear a sound in the distance and can tell by the way her face lights up that she hears it too. He thinks he should know it but he can't quite wrap his brain around where. It isn't until he can see flashes of light and hears the familiar drone get louder that it comes to him. Sirens. Sirens equal ambulance; ambulance equals this woman being able to put this nightmare behind her and continue on with her life.

His eyes connect to hers again and the sight of her; the visible relief and genuine smile that floats across her face tells him that she's going to be okay; that she will make it out of this just fine; that she is safe.

And that knowledge is what finally allows him to shut his eyes.

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><p><strong>The End. Thanks for stopping by. :)<strong>


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